


The Boy That Was, The Man That Is

by Alley_Skywalker



Category: Mighty Ducks (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Memories, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Toxic Masculinity, M/M, Referenced Bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-22 02:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17051342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/pseuds/Alley_Skywalker
Summary: Bombay doesn't get community service and doesn't coach District Five. Consequently, everyone's lives go a little differently. Years later, Adam and Charlie meet (again) by happenstance.





	The Boy That Was, The Man That Is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kayromantic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayromantic/gifts).



Coming back to his hometown after so many years away is strange. The last time Adam was there had been before his freshman year of college. He saw his family over the holidays as his grandparents’ or aunt’s house and there had never been much of a need to go back home. 

The few friends he could have claimed to have had scattered around the country after graduation. There was simply no one really to see. 

That year, however, the family Christmas gathering was to be at his parents’ house. So Adam went, with a feeling of dark anticipation of what it would be like to be back where various childhood memories could jump out at him – both the good and the really bad. He went, wondering what it would be like being back there, this time as an NHL player and not an anxious, compulsive schoolboy with big goals and little knowledge of how to get there. 

But because work was all-encompassing and never ending, his agent, Mark, had insisted on going with him and organizing a PR charity event where Adam would visit a local elementary school, sign some autographs for the kids, tell some pre-prepared anecdotes about life as a professional athlete and pose in photographs with he kids for the local press. It wasn’t a hard thing to do, but Adam hated the publicity side of the whole thing. 

As they drove through familiar streets – some of which had changed a good deal in the last seven years – Mark babbled endlessly about the various plans he had for the event. In the back seat of the car, Adam watched the scenery rush by, only half-listening to what Mark had to say. 

“What school do you think you’ll go to?” 

“Hm?”

“What school—Adam, are you listening?”

“Yea. We need to choose a school.”

“Right. I don’t know if you had any thoughts, but I was thinking Elston. It would be a logical choice. Now of course, we could…” Mark continued to drone on but Adam was again losing track of what Mark was saying. He had this problem lately – being unable to focus on things that weren’t strictly hockey. Hockey was sometimes the only thing that made much sense.

Coincidently, they were driving by an elementary school just then. It was old and clearly not in a part of town Adam should have ever been in, but they were trying to avoid traffic by taking a side-rout. They had to slow down to get through the congestion of parents coming to pick up their kids and Adam got a good look at the children and teachers outside. The children were a diverse group racially and ethnically, by the looks of their clothes and backpacks, mostly from poorer backgrounds. A young man with thick curly brown hair and a warm smile was herding the children along into straight lines against the gates in front of the school to wait for their parents. The boys and some of the girls would sometimes get into scuffles and shoving matches which the young man – probably one of the teachers – would quickly break up. The kids seemed to listen to him. At one point, the man looked up and squinted in Adam’s direction, probably wondering what a car like his was doing in this part of town. 

“Are you sure Elston’s the right choice?” Adam blurted out suddenly, making Mark fall silent for a moment, which was a miracle in and of itself. 

“Well considering all the factors—” Mark seemed to realize what Adam was looking at and a note of irritation appeared in his voice. “Where would _you_ like to have the event? Not at a place like this.”

“Which school is this?”

“Huckleberry Elementary. Says it on the sign.”

“Right. I don’t remember every school. I haven’t been here in ages.” Adam wasn’t sure why he felt the need to justify himself. 

“Oh sure. But let’s focus back on the issue. Why not Elston?”

Adam shrugged. “I don’t know, I just haven’t thought about it much yet I guess.” He really wasn’t sure why not Elston – except that it was rich, white, preppy and probably not the best place for this sort of charity event. 

Or maybe because Adam did not feel much like revisiting his past. 

*

When Adam had something on his mind he liked to go skating. It surprised people because he spent so much time on the ice that it would seem far more natural for him to want to stay away from it in his time off instead of seeking it out. But it was his love of everything to do with skating that had gotten Adam as far as he had come, so that being on the ice was like being home. 

The problem was that here, in his home town where he hadn’t shown up for a number of years, his presence was something of a local sensation and he was afraid of running into reporters at any rink he chose. If they were not there to begin with, someone would surely tip them off and he would be giving interviews instead of clearing his head within half an hour. 

So instead of an ice rink he chose the old pond. It was odd to skate there again. He had not done it since childhood, and even then his memories were fuzzy. Playing for the Hawks had meant consistent access to the rink, and if he wasn’t practicing with the team, he was at stick time or public skating sessions with his father. There was little reason to come out onto the rough, uncleaned and uneven natural ice of the lake. His memories of skating there were blurry and vague, tinted in early childhood. There had been all sorts of preconceptions about who went to practice on the lake in those days. Sometimes, Adam wondered if those preconceptions still held. 

But it was far less likely that he would run into anyone there than at an actual ice rink. He went at dusk, in hopes to further avoid being noticed and bothered. He laced his skates and left his bag on the bank, taking the rink that no one would come by and steal it. 

It took a few moments for him to get accustomed to the feel of the natural ice under his skates, but skating was still skating and soon enough he was gliding across the expanse of the lake, his mind going calm and quiet, the soothing familiar rhythm of the activity taking over. 

Elston Prep was where he had gone for elementary school. It was a straight line from there to Eden Hall to an Ivy League or MIT or some other prestigious program, depending on one’s goals. It would certainly not be odd for Adam to choose to do his school visit with Elston Prep. It would only be natural for him to want to give back to a school he had gone to. The odd feeling of _wrongness_ that nagged at him was perplexing in that sense. 

He thought of driving by Huckleberry Elementary. The rowdy kids at the front of the school, the young man he had seen herding them along, breaking up little scuffles, Mark giving a derisive little snort: _Where would_ you _like to have the event? Not at a place like this._

But why not? If he was meant to do this as PR community service, would it not look better if he visited a poor school in a poor neighborhood, where children acted like children and not tiny, prim robot copies of their parents like at Elston? 

The photographs wouldn’t look as comely though. And there would be no one to foot the bill for a grand event that the media could have a feeding frenzy over and would look good on front pages of newspapers. _Always more politics._

It wasn’t the Elston kids’ fault. Adam knew that first hand. They were all a little neurotic even at the age of ten, but it was hard not to be when there was pressure from every angle, every adult in one’s life long before puberty, not to mention the absence of any kind of maturity to deal with that sort of pressure. 

One of Adam’s skates hit a large bump in the ice and for a moment he thought he might actually lose balance before straightening out again. 

He looked around, shaken out of his thoughts for a moment. Suddenly, he became aware that he was not alone. Someone else was skating on the lake as well. They must have started out far apart but their respective paths had brought them closer together. 

The other person – a man whose face Adam could not quite make out in the dark – noticed him and waved. Adam, out of sheer, automatic politeness, waved back. This was a mistake, as the man took this as an invitation to interact and skated closer to him. 

“Hey,” he started, cheerfully, “You’re Adam Banks, right?”

“Yea, hello.” Well there was no way Adam was going to extract himself easily now. Now that they were closer together, Adam realized he’d seen the man before, but could not immediately say where. His memory for faces was bad. 

“Charlie Conway. I teach elementary school around here.”

 _Right._ Adam winced internally at himself. _Huckleberry._ This had been the man he had seen herding the grade schoolers that afternoon. “Ah. Nice to meet you. Are you a hockey fan?”

There was something almost sad in Charlie’s smile. “You could say that. But it’s also…you probably don’t remember but we were in Pee Wees together.”

“We were?”

“Different teams. You were Hawks. I was District Five.” Charlie gave a shrug and a sort of sheepish smile. “I wouldn’t expect you to remember.”

“I’m surprised you remember,” Adam blurted out before realizing that probably came out the wrong way. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s fine. I have a good memory for people.” Something in Charlie’s expression made Adam think that in this case, whatever prompted that memory wasn’t necessarily very good. 

“I’m sorry it’s just been so long. Do you still play?”

“No. I wasn’t terrible or anything but not good enough to make anything out of it. Besides, hockey is expensive and all. My mom and I didn’t have that much money.” He gave another causal shrug as though it was normal to volunteer this much person information to a complete stranger. Adam was not sure what to do with this much openness. “But I volunteer to coach sometimes. I think I was always better at that kind of thing than the actual playing. Probably comes with being a teacher, right?”

“Right,” Adam said automatically for want of anything better to say. Charlie had an infectious smile and the brightest eyes that stood out to Adam even in the gloom. Almost all light was gone from the world now and the nearest streetlights were too far to be of much help. The name Charlie Conway rang a very distant bell. Adam remembered the rag-tag bunch that had been District Five. They never had any decent coaching or equipment. Some of them might have not been terrible players if anyone ever tried to actually teach them correctly or if they could afford ice time or helmets that were the right size or skates that weren’t from the last generation or…anything really. Adam had not given any of this any thought as a kid. Neither did anyone else. District Five was a funny joke, someone to laugh at to feel better about oneself when things got overwhelming. Nothing more. 

_Charley Conway._ It _was_ terribly familiar now that he was thinking about it. 

There had been a group of kids from the District Five team that some of his teammates liked to pick on. Adam had always thought the activity a waste of time, but his friends had gotten a kick out of it and Adam had been young enough and wanted to fit in badly enough to go along with it. He felt a little ashamed of himself now – teasing and pranks were one thing, but McGill and the others had no qualms with getting physically violent as well. Adam hoped Charlie hadn’t been one of those kids. A childhood bully was not how he wanted to be remembered by a guileless, attractive, elementary school teacher. 

“My students are excited about you being here.”

“Oh?” Adam felt a slight twinge of guilt. He hoped Charlie was not going to try to convince him that his school was the right choice for the event. Adam did not feel like letting him down, but Mark would likely lose it if he chose a school like Huckleberry. He would call it “hood.” 

Something of his thoughts must have shown on Adam’s face because Charlie gave a small laugh and said, “Don’t worry. I told them you would probably end up somewhere like Elston Prep for your event.”

“That’s my old school,” Adam said. He sounded a little defensive even to himself. 

Charlie nodded. “Sure. Well it was nice to meet you.”

Something inside Adam felt hot and ashamed. Charlie did not appear to be judging him but something about that acceptance made Adam judge himself. “Hey, listen, if your students have like…merch they want autographed or something…I’m staying locally over the holidays. Will probably come out here to skate again. It’s nice and quiet and stuff…”

Charlie nodded, a little thoughtful. “I’m here on Tuesdays and Fridays. So maybe I’ll see you.” He skated backwards for a few seconds, then waved and disappeared into the dark. 

Adam, feeling jittery again but in a way that did not seem like it would be helped by more skating, decided to call it a night. He found his car and brushed off the thin layer of snow that had managed to cover its roof even in the short while he had been on the ice. He got in and sat there for a few moments, ostensibly waiting for the car to warm up, the heater running on full blast. But really his thoughts were wandering to Charlie, to those looks he gave him like he knew something Adam did not and, on the other hand, those completely open smiles. It was odd and irritating and unexpectedly pleasant all at once. 

_Tuesdays and Fridays._ He would have to remember that. 

*

Something about the meeting with Charlie unsettled Adam. Perhaps he was just reacting awkwardly to meeting someone attractive. It wouldn’t be the first time. Yet Adam could not shake the feeling so he went looking through his old photo albums, notes and newspaper clippings, as well as information on the internet, trying to jog his memory. 

The memories came back quickly once he managed to fish them out of whatever dark hole deep inside himself that he had removed them to. The pressure of doing well to please his coach and his father, the pressure to fit in among boys more outgoing and daring than him, the fear of being found out – even at the age of ten, – the fear of being an outcast in a social world so small everyone was only a couple of degrees of separation apart. 

He remembered the boys he tagged along with, their stupid, mean jokes, the things Adam had taught himself to find amusing even when his instincts were to say that they were wrong. 

And he finally remembered Charlie Conway. The boy who always said hello to him in the hallway between locker rooms, the boy who never retaliated against Adam’s antics on the ice. Charlie was the boy who had found him that one time in the boys’ bathroom when Adam had taken a very hard foul hit on the ice and ended up throwing up quietly in the boys’ bathroom, too afraid and ashamed to tell anyone how badly he was hurt. Charlie had brought him water and stayed with him until he felt better, then offered to go with him to tell his father what had happened. _”Or maybe my mom could tell him? Maybe she’ll know something else to do?”_ Adam had been both too embarrassed and mortified to be nice but too sick and thankful for the comfort to be mean like his friends would have expected him to be with a _District Five runt._ In the end, he had cried in frustrated confusion and Charlie had hugged him until Lason’s father – the informal team doctor – found them there and took Adam away. 

The following week, while out with his teammates, Adam came across a group of District Five kids. Charlie had been among them. McGill and the rest of the team decided to do what they always did and Adam, humiliated by what had occurred in that boys’ bathroom, joined in for the first time ever. 

He had felt so disgusted with himself afterward that he lied to his mother and told her that he was unwell so he could miss school the next day and not have to face anyone or anything. 

Adam went to bed that night with a residual aftertaste of that self-hatred and regret clinging to his throat and hammering against the inside of his ribcage. He needed to see Charlie again. 

*

It was the Friday after Christmas when Adam came out to the lake again in the afternoon, as the world was growing dark. He put on his skates and went out on the ice, trying to calm his nerves. 

He did not know if he would even run into Charlie again or if he had come out for nothing, but he hoped that he would. 

After about twenty minutes, Adam became aware of another person in the vicinity and peered anxiously through the dark. It was Charlie, in an oversized sweater and old jeans, gliding smoothly across the ice toward him. 

“Hey, you came back.”

“Yea.”

“You wanna skate a few laps together?”

Adam nodded, suddenly feeling his throat and mouth growing dry. Charlie had the warmest smile and Adam did not understand why someone who was basically a stranger, who knew him at best as an over-privileged child and a hotshot pro hockey player, would ever look at him the way Charlie looked at him. Although, it was probably for the same reason that Charlie had been so nice to him back when they had been kids – whatever the reason was. 

They skated together in silence, the ice rough beneath them, but it did not stop either of them and Adam was pleasantly surprised by Charlie’s ability to keep up with him. As they skated, the silence between them became less awkward. 

After some time, when they slowed down to catch their breath, Charlie said, “I talked to my kids – my students, I mean – about meeting you. They don’t…merch is expensive and everything but a few of them play pee wee hockey and they asked if you could sign some photos for them. 

Adam nodded, soberly. He wasn’t about to turn down a bunch of children. “Sure. Do you have them with you?”

They sat on a bench on the bank, not taking off their skates. Charlie took out a small stack of photographs and used his phone for light. One photograph was of two boys – probably brothers – wearing beat-up skates on a patch of ice with sticks that are too short for them. The second was a group of four boys in mismatched hockey gear on an ice rink. The third was of a girl in a District Five jersey – her hair was in braids and she was smiling happily at the camera. There were a couple more similar ones. 

Adam took the pen Charlie offers him and began to sign the photographs mechanically. “Does District Five still exist?”

‘Yea, pretty much all the teams do. They’ve added a couple new ones, but the old ones are still there. Some of the district lines have been drawn and redrawn a few times. Usually nonsensically from any point of view that doesn’t have to do with money.”

There was a hint of bitterness in Charlie’s voice that made Adam look up. “You think someone is buying the commission’s votes?”

“Either that, or they do it on their own insensitive. I wouldn’t be surprised either way.” 

“What teams are your students on?”

‘’Most are District Five. A couple are Panthers, since the last time the district lines moved. We almost had a Hawk.”

“Almost?”

“With the proposed re-districting. But then that changed.” 

 

“It’s probably better.”

“Why?” Charlie sounded genuinely curious.

Adam shrugged. “It’s…the culture is very insular. We didn’t all just play hockey together – we went to school together, many of our parents were friends or colleagues. A kid who didn’t fit into that mold would have had a hard time. Ten-year-olds have no shame.”

Charlie laughed. It sounded a little sad to Adam. “That’s true.” 

Adam handed the stack of photographs back to Charlie. 

“Thank you.” Charlie tucked away the signed pictures and turned off the flashlight on his phone, plunging them back into near-darkness. Adam wished he could see Charlie’s face, those soft, earnest brown eyes. 

“Least I could do… You skate well.” 

“Thanks. I love doing it so… Practice, I guess. Up until the age of twelve or so I thought I might be a pro hockey player some day. Childish dreams and all that.”

“I thought about what you said last time, about us being in Pee Wees together. I looked up some old photos…”

“Oh?”

Adam looked down at his hands, even though Charlie would almost certainly not be able to see his expression in this little light. ‘You were always nice to me even though my friends were always horrible to you and I never said anything – at best. Why?”

He thought he could see Charlie shrug out of the corner of his eye. “You looked like a guy who needed someone to be nice to him.” 

“I’m sorry we did that. That I did that—never said anything.”

“Thanks. It was so long ago, though. It’s not important.”

“It is though. I spent a lot of my life living up to other people’s expectations. Sometimes I still have to. And I end up hurting people or doing the wrong thing in the end. Like with this school event. My agent has me all set to go to Elston Prep and it makes sense – it’s my old school. But it’s a charity event. Your students would benefit so much more from it than the kids at Elston who already have everything. In the material sense anyway. I know some of their parents personally. I could go and see them and autograph their oodles of merch any day.” 

“So why not pick a different school?”

Adam frowned down at his hands. He knew why – on a vague sort of level. Things were just _done_ that way. But he didn’t know how to explain it to Charlie. “Money. Expectations.”

“Expectations of what? You said yourself it’s charity.”

“It’s PR, actually. Charity is just…” He did not want to say _fiction._

“A pretense,” Charlie said, and Adam could hear the frown in his voice. 

Adam nodded slightly. Surely Charlie could not see that tiny gesture in the dark, but suddenly, Adam’s throat was too tight for words. 

Charlie stood. “You said you regret hurting people and not doing the right thing in order to meet expectations. That’s not really so hard to change.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Nope.” While Adam struggled for a response, Charlie backed up onto the ice. “I have to go. I don’t know if I’ll see you again, but good luck with your event.” 

“…Thanks,” Adam said, as Charlie skated away. He wanted to shout out and call him back, to say more, to explain. But the words got trapped somewhere between his lungs and his mouth, melting away with every second that passed. 

*

Adam went driving. He drove for over an hour in the snow, his thoughts feverishly wondering. Somehow, he ended up by Huckleberry Elementary. It was empty and dark, out for winter break until everyone would come back in just over a week. Adam parked and stared out into the darkness of the empty schoolyard, Charlie’s voice replaying in his head. 

Childhood tenderness melted with adult attraction, the beginnings of a stifled childhood crush blending into acknowledged adult desire. He wanted Charlie to still think the best of him. It seemed important just then. 

Adam fished his cellphone out of his jacket. “Hey, Mark. I made a decision about the school.” _You’re not going to like it._

*

As the school event wrapped up in the Huckleberry Elementary auditorium, the children dragged out by their parents and the local press herded out by the security force Mark had hired for the occasion, Adam looked around the room, hoping almost against hope that Charlie was still there. 

He was, saying goodbye to a small group of students. Adam approached him with a tentative smile, his stomach full of butterflies. 

“Hey. You were great,” Charlie said once they were within normal speaking distance. 

 

“Thanks,” Adam said. “Your students are great. I’m glad I did the event here.” 

“They _are_ great,” Charlie said, his smile turning cheeky.

‘I wanted to ask you something. Ah…do you want to go out for coffee or something? Or a drink? I don’t really drink but—”

“Are you asking me out?” 

Adam could feel his face turning red. He had never been any good at this. “I—ah—I just---”

Charlie ran a hand through his hair and his mouth pinched in a disappointed expression Adam thought might be a little exaggerated. “And here I thought I was being asked out by the great Adam Banks.”

Adam thought his face might explode if it turned any brighter red. “I guess it depends on whether or not you intend to say yes.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“Christ, Conway.”

Charlie laughed, regarded him seriously for a moment, then said, “Yes. I intend to say yes.”


End file.
